5 Times Mike Hugged Harvey
by rae7788
Summary: and 1 time Harvey hugged Mike. Pretty self-explanatory if you read the title...just a lighthearted look into the ever-developing friendship/bromance of Mike and Harvey. Cover created by ImAGiver!
1. Chapter 1

**Hey guys! So I was chatting with the lovely phoenix on cloud nine awhile ago about how much we both love writing bromantic hugs and thus this bizarre and random fic was born as her Christmas gift****—** so Merry (Happy?) Christmas, El! :D I was originally going to make it a oneshot, but it spiraled slightly out of control and the individual hugs came out to be about 2,000 words each because I'm apparently incapable of being concise XD It seemed like too much to put them all together as a oneshot, so I'm planning on posting one chapter a day leading up to Christmas Eve to space it out a bit. Hope you all enjoy and have a good holiday season! I kind of put To Build a Home on the back burner to write this, but I'll be back with a new chapter of that after Christmas hopefully.  


**Disclaimer: I own nothing but a lot of student loans and some easy mac  
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**A/N: this first one is based lightly off of a scene from the show __****Merlin ****episode 2x6 ****where Merlin misinterprets Arthur's body language and goes in for an unexpected hug— if you really want to see it you can just search for a clip of it on youtube. Anyway, sorry about the lengthy preface. Onward!  
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**1. The Merlin and Arthur almost-hug **

The first time that Mike hugs Harvey, Harvey doesn't reciprocate at all.

In fact, he actually jerks away in shock and spends a good part of the rest of the afternoon overcompensating and being as condescending as possible because he doesn't know any healthy ways of dealing with the surprise and discomfort he feels about Mike's attempts at physical affection. It's not that he doesn't _like _hugs—he's certainly shared many a passionate embrace with various beautiful women—it's just that, well, it's _Mike— _his dorky, overeager associate whose only goal in life appears to be to firmly implant himself in Harvey's life and in Harvey's physical space.

He doesn't blame Mike for it because god knows the younger man is starved for affection. _That_ is evident to anyone with a pair of eyes in their head— the way that Mike lights up at the slightest hint of approval or praise— but that doesn't mean that Harvey wants to engage in physical affection. Sure, he'll toss the kid a bone every once in awhile in the form of a clever compliment disguised between a strain of insults; perhaps a hand on the shoulder for a job well done— but actual hugging? No way. He has his limits, after all. How is he supposed to maintain his image as New York's most formidable and impenetrable closer if he's seen giving out hugs to somewhat childish, vulnerable associates who happen to have an uncanny ability to imitate a kicked puppy? One thing would lead to another and eventually he'd find himself willingly taking on pro bono cases left and right or volunteering at an animal shelter or leading a Girl Scout troupe. And that just simply wouldn't do.

The first time that Mike hugs Harvey is at the end of a long and painful two weeks about a year into Mike's career at Pearson Hardman. They've been absolutely swamped with the Hanson case and both have spent a tense and sleepless fortnight desperately slogging through paperwork and weighty legal texts. So it's really no wonder Mike is so loopy when they finally go to court and win the case.

Harvey still isn't expecting the hug, though.

He supposes afterwards that it's partially his fault for egging Mike on— after all, he _knows _Mike can't handle affection without getting excited and overreacting in typical overgrown-puppy fashion. So he probably shouldn't have openly praised Mike. And he should have known that he was treading dangerous waters when he went for the casual congratulations-at-not-completely-failing-at-life-you-actually-did-something-useful pat on the back. But to be honest, Harvey isn't entirely certain that he would have won this trial without Mike's help (an extremely alarming thought). Sure, he probably would have figured something out eventually; pulled something out of his ass at the last minute like he always does. But he can't deny that it had been exceedingly helpful when Mike had pulled through at the 11th hour by unearthing a key piece of evidence that proved that George Hanson's jealous ex-wife was the one embezzling from Hanson Paper Products, Inc. So the praise is actually somewhat merited.

Harvey's original plan is to try to go about thanking Mike for his tireless efforts in a subtle, manly way. But when this all transpires Harvey hasn't slept more than 4 or 5 hours a night in two weeks and he's too tired to think of anything other than _sleep sleep sleep, _much less something profound and clever. So he decides to just go for a simple and honest "thank you" because he knows he's over thinking it. And the 1% of his brain dwelling on the matter really wants to join the other 99% in thinking about his mattress and his pillow.

He has just left the courtroom after spending a lovely hour listening to George Hanson profusely thank him over and over again for his services (Mike had ducked out about a half an hour into George's grateful soliloquy under the guise of filling out and filing the post-trial paperwork, the big coward). But when Harvey finally shakes off George and leaves the courtroom, he's not surprised to find Mike sitting on a bench in the hallway and dozing, files abandoned next to him. Harvey frowns slightly as he takes in his associate's appearance— Mike is far too pale and there are dark circles under his eyes even in sleep. Not to mention the fact that Mike's suit is wrinkly and is just a little too loose on his slim frame for Harvey's liking. Yes, it's been a rough two weeks for the pair of them.

But that doesn't mean that Harvey can let Mike get away with sleeping in public places— he's still new to the legal field and he's in the process of making connections and first impressions with influential people in the court system. And it won't look good to passerby judges to see him sleeping in an untidy suit and looking like a bum. And if Harvey's associate looks bad, then Harvey looks bad too. So Harvey picks up the stack of post-trial files that Mike will be responsible for handling and slams them back down on the bench nice and loudly.

Mike is on his feet like a rocket, scrubbing sleep from his eyes and straightening his stupid skinny tie. "Article 8, Section 13!" He shouts blearily and Harvey just stares at him and waits for him to remember that the trial is over and that he doesn't have to go around hollering the finer details of Hanson Inc.'s bylaws to the general public. Sure enough, after a minute of squinting at his surroundings and thinking (it looks like hard work), Mike relaxes and yawns loudly. Harvey rolls his eyes but doesn't say anything because at least the younger lawyer is standing and not sleeping on the bench anymore.

"Hi, Harvey," Mike says. "Can I go home now?"

Harvey just holds up the stack of post-trial files and waggles them in Mike's direction, ignoring Mike's crestfallen expression. "Come on, let's go while Ray's still on the clock," Harvey says. "Otherwise I'm taking a cab and you can find your own way back to Pearson Hardman." Mike sighs but dutifully gathers up his things and starts walking out to the car as Harvey mentally braces himself to thank Mike for his recent efforts.

"Mike," Harvey says, clearing his throat and falling into step with the younger man. "I just wanted to say that you did a good job the past two weeks and that I appreciate all the time you put into this case." There. That's good— personal but still diplomatic. His Harvard professors would be proud. He figures he'll go for a quick pat on the back to top it off.

Mike is looking at him with that same absurd grin of happiness that he gets whenever Harvey hints that he possibly might not mind Mike's presence and may in fact even find it tolerable. Harvey bravely raises his arm to pat Mike on the back and that's when it happens— Mike clearly assumes that Harvey is going for a hug rather than a pat on the back, and he brings his own arms up and around Harvey— for half a second, that is, until he feels Harvey stiffen at the contact and then he hastily removes his arms.

They both stand there and stare at each other, arms raised in the air as they cautiously try and read one another.

"What was _that?" _Harvey finally asks after a tense minute.

"I thought you were going for a hug!" Mike crows defensively.

"No." Harvey says simply, shaking his head. "Just—no."

Mike shrugs uncomfortably then. They both stare at each other for a minute longer before slowly lowering their arms and turning in unison to resume walking out to the car, not saying another word.

They slide into the back of the car and have a rather silent ride back to Pearson Hardman. When they finally get up to the office, Harvey hands Mike the files. "You. Work on these while I go report back to Jessica. And try not to mess up— I'd like to actually make it back to my apartment tonight without having to stay here and fix your mistakes."

Mike nods and takes the stack from Harvey. The truth is that he looks so ridiculously pathetic and weary that Harvey considers snatching the files back out of his associate's hands and calling Ray to come take Mike home. But he has already explicitly thanked Mike once today and letting him off now would exceed the "okay, well _maybe _Harvey does really care about Mike" quota for the year— not to mention the fact that it might lead to another attempted hug. So he points Mike towards the couch and ignores the sad look on Mike's exhausted face as he heads over and sets to work.

Harvey feels a little guilty for a moment. He doesn't really care that much about Mike hugging him for half a second— Mike is clearly so deliriously tired right now that it's a miracle he didn't grab a random passerby and hug _them _instead— but he hasn't really actually articulated that to Mike, so the kid probably thinks Harvey is angry with him. But he can't bring himself to tell Mike out loud that it was okay. So he just leaves to go talk to Jessica, still feeling a bit bad about the whole exchange.

But he makes up for that later when he returns to his office and finds Mike passed out asleep on the couch, full out snoring and drooling and the whole nine yards. Normally he would wake Mike up in an instant and put him back to work. Or take embarrassing pictures and post them all over the internet. But tonight he merely pours himself another cup of coffee, slides the files from Mike's slack grip, and brings them over to his desk and sets to work on them himself while Mike snoozes away. And when he takes a break and runs to a nearby deli to grab some dinner and just so _happens _to accidentally buy an extra sandwich that's the same kind that Mike likes, well, so be it.

Just because Harvey's not the type to naturally initiate or reciprocate hugs doesn't mean he can't show he cares in his own subtle and manly (or as Donna calls it, 'emotionally stunted') sort of way.

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**Hope you enjoyed it! I'm about to go take a 2 hour linguistics final, so cross your fingers that I still have a few brain cells left over afterwards so that I can update again tomorrow XD**


	2. Chapter 2

**Thank you so much to everyone who read/reviewed/favorited/followed! Hope you continue to enjoy this. This one is really very random and silly, but if you're an angst junkie then hang in there til tomorrow because there'll be a real hug then!  
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**2. Haunted House**

The second time that Mike hugs Harvey actually ends in physical violence.

It happens like this: Jessica wants to convince Philip Hennepin, a famous young baseball player, that he should sign on with the firm. So she puts Harvey on the job, fully trusting him to close the deal. Initially Harvey's interested in the case because he loves baseball…and he might secretly be hoping that he'll get to meet some of Philip's teammates or maybe even toss a ball around with Philip himself. So when Philip calls and invites him over for a casual meeting to talk over the possibility of retaining Pearson Hardman as legal counsel for future contract negotiations, Harvey has a wonderful mental image of himself chatting with Philip about the firm while playing catch in the front yard of Philip's mansion. He can see himself befriending the young man and receiving a lifetime's supply of season tickets with a seat right behind home plate. He can practically smell the peanuts and the ballpark franks…

…that is, until Philip calls the day before their scheduled meeting and changes their plans. It turns out that the young pitcher is a devoted father and he spends all of his time during the off season with his family to make up for the time he misses at home when he's playing. So Philip calls Harvey and says that he's promised his daughter Lindy that he'll take her to a haunted house tomorrow since it's almost Halloween, and would Harvey mind coming along and chatting with him at the haunted house instead of at the mansion? Harvey grits his teeth and gracefully acquiesces, but inside he wants to shake Philip Hennepin and remind him that he can take his daughter to a haunted house any old time he wants but he can't play catch with Harvey Specter any time he wants to.

Mike decides it's a good idea to mercilessly tease Harvey about having to wear a Halloween costume and go to a haunted house with a little girl. Harvey quickly rectifies this erroneous assumption by informing Mike that he's coming along too and that he also has to dress up, and Mike shuts up very quickly. Harvey had originally told Mike that he wasn't coming along because he didn't want Mike to interfere with his chance to make a good impression on Philip by asking something stupid and Mike-ish about baseball. But now that Harvey has to wear a costume and suffer, he's sure as hell going to make Mike suffer with him.

He has a feeling that it's going to be a rough evening, and these suspicions are only confirmed when he and Ray show up at Mike's apartment to pick the younger man up and Mike appears, gleefully costumed and raring to go. He feels the slight pain behind his temples blossom into a headache as he takes in Mike's outfit: his associate is decked out in full Robin regalia— something that Harvey assumes is _not _a coincidence, since he himself is wearing a simple but classy Batman mask and a black cape. He had avoided going all out in the interest of maintaining some degree of professionalism. Damn Donna. She had probably told Mike that Harvey was going as Batman and Mike had taken it upon himself to find a corresponding costume.

"Why are you just wearing a mask and cape? Where's the rest of the batsuit?" Mike asks, clearly not impressed by Harvey's lack of intense devotion to correct costuming.

But Harvey refuses to answer his infuriating associate. He settles for rubbing his temples to prevent the headache from snowballing into a migraine and frowning out the window in dignified lawyerly fashion.

"Oh, now you're not talking to me because I'm dressed as Robin? Real mature, Harvey. Maybe I just picked this costume because I like Robin. It might not have anything to do with you," Mike says loftily before shaking his head and grinning. "Holy ego, Batman," he mumbles quietly and Harvey pretends not to hear.

When they arrive at the haunted house, Philip and his daughter Lindy are already there. Philip is dressed as Frankenstein and Lindy is a pirate. She has an eye patch, gold hoop earring, and a bird on her shoulder. She also has quite an outspoken personality. She immediately decides that she likes Mike and latches on to him. She then also chastises Harvey for his lack of commitment in his costume choice.

"Is it really that hard to at least put on a black suit with your mask and cape, Mr. Harvey?" Lindy asks, frowning severely and taking hold of Mike's hand. Harvey wonders how a six-year-old who is missing her two front teeth and has facial hair drawn on her face in sharpie can manage to look so intimidating. It's possible that she's been taking classes from Donna. Mike sticks his tongue out at Harvey for half a second and Harvey rolls his eyes.

"Shall we head into the haunted house?" Philip asks.

"Yeah, let's go, Daddy!" Lindy shrieks excitedly. "Come on, Mr. Mike," she says, tugging Mike along impatiently. Harvey finds himself slightly jealous of Mike's easy way with kids—but then Lindy swipes at her runny nose with one grubby hand and Harvey changes his mind. Mike can stick with the children and Harvey will stay in his nice, clean bubble of personal space, thank you very much.

Harvey pulls off his mask so that he can actually see and falls into step with Philip as they enter the haunted house. It's been a _very _long time since Harvey's been in one and he's forgotten how much he hates them. His idea of a good time typically involves gambling, classy alcohol, and women; not grimy children running around screaming as they're chased by poorly costumed carnies.

Lindy is absolutely terrified, and Mike seems a bit on edge as well. To be honest, Harvey's not really that surprised— Mike's manly enough, but after listening to a lot of the younger man's half-delirious late night ramblings at the office, Harvey knows that he has a pretty active imagination. An imagination that is probably in overdrive right now, since they are being chased down a hallway by zombies at the moment. Lindy shrieks and jumps into her father's arms, sobbing.

"Daddy, I want to go! Please can we leave, Daddy?!" Lindy wails loudly. One of the workers, a nice young man dressed as a murderous clown, opens a secret employee-only door in the wall to lead them back down and outside. Mike and Harvey try to follow but the door swings shut too quickly, leaving them standing alone in the eerily dark and silent hallway.

Harvey hears Mike's breathing quicken and he can't deny that his own heart is beating slightly faster than normal in light of the unnatural silence and pitch blackness.

"Well I guess we should try and find our way out, right?" Mike laughs shakily, his voice more high-pitched than normal. "Philip and Lindy will be looking for us."

"Yeah," Harvey agrees casually, and they both continue down the hallway slowly. Harvey edges up in front (one of them has to be manly about this, and it's not like he's scared of a dark hallway in a completely fake haunted house scenario) and Mike follows closely behind, practically breathing down the back of Harvey's neck.

The anticipation is the worst part— it's been silent for far too long and they both know that sooner or later something or someone is going to pop out at them. _That's all it is, _Harvey tells himself as he proceeds forward up the rickety stairs and onto the final level of the haunted house. _I'm just nervous about the surprise element of this whole situation. It's not like I'm __**scared.**_

Harvey steps onto the creaky landing of the top floor, acutely aware of the fact that Mike is now clutching onto the back of his batman cape and breathing like he's just run a marathon.

"Harvey," Mike practically whimpers and Harvey shushes him, trying to strategize.

"Shh," he says. "Listen and see if you can hear anyone hiding and waiting to jump out at us." They stand silently for a good minute or two. Finally Harvey breathes out a sigh of relief. Maybe there's no one up here after all.

"I think we're okay," he says, and he feels Mike relax slightly. No sooner has he said this, however, when a man dressed as Death descends from the ceiling and swings right at them on wires, wielding a plastic scythe.

They both panic, quite simply. Mike lets out a girlish scream and flings his arms around Harvey in an oh-my-god-please-protect-me embrace. And then Harvey, who is running completely on adrenaline at this point and wasn't expecting Mike to grab him, makes a tiny mistake and—_good lord Donna is going to murder him—_punches his associate in the face.

A few minutes later, an employee done up as a bloody skeleton leads them back down to the entrance, shaking his head at how pathetic the two of them are. Mike's already got a bruise forming on his cheek, and he hastily tells Lindy that he got it from fighting off the bad guys. Lindy gushes over how brave Mike is and generously gives him her pirate eye patch to cover up his rapidly blossoming black eye.

"Well, the night is still young. Do you want to come back to me house where we can get you some ice for that bruise, Mike?" Philip asks, dubiously eying the pair of them and no doubt wondering how Mike got such a shiner.

So really it all works out pretty well in the end. Mike gets his ice (and to be honest, it's not that bad of an injury— just a simple bruise that Mike declares 'is sure to impress the ladies') and he and Lindy sit on the porch and talk about superheroes while eating popsicles and Halloween candy. They watch Harvey and Philip play catch and talk about business. All in all it's a successful evening.

"I can't believe you punched me in the face," Mike says when Ray pulls up in front of the mansion to pick them up much later and they climb into the backseat of the car.

"Er— yes, about that," Harvey begins uncomfortably. He really hates apologies.

"Oh, don't worry about it, Harvey," Mike says kindly.

A little too kindly, actually.

Harvey eyes his associate suspiciously, wondering why he's grinning like the cat that got the canary after being dragged through a haunted house and punched by his boss. "Really, Harvey, it's alright. It was a valuable experience," Mike continues magnanimously.

And there's something off about this statement, but Harvey's tired now that the adrenaline has faded and he's kind of embarrassed that he panicked and his hand hurts from punching Mike. So he decides to just let it go and he turns to look out the window.

On the other side of the backseat of the towncar, Mike grins evilly to himself. After glancing over to make certain that Harvey's attention is focused on the scenery outside, he reaches into his pocket and pulls out the treasured possession that he has acquired this evening and revels in its majestic glory, trying not to laugh out loud.

It's a simple picture. It turns out that the haunted house had a camera installed on the last floor and that it took pictures of everyone who went through, much like cameras on a roller coaster do. And while Harvey had been occupied trying to find an icepack for Mike at the haunted house, Mike bought a copy of their picture from the guy manning the photobooth because it was just too good of a blackmail opportunity to pass up.

The picture shows Mike with his arms wrapped around Harvey in the second hug they have ever shared. His eyes are screwed shut in terror. Harvey, on the other hand, has his mouth open in a silent scream and his eyes are practically bugging out of his head. It is such a ridiculous contrast to the confident, dignified air that the older lawyer normally possesses that Mike is incapable of looking at it without breaking into a fit of giggles. Oh, Donna is going to love this. It was well worth getting punched in the face for. He glances over at Harvey, who is still looking out the window obliviously, and smirks. Karma is a bitch.


	3. Chapter 3

**3. Cleaning the apartment**

The third time that Mike hugs Harvey is the first time Harvey reciprocates the embrace.

The dynamic between the two of them is a lot more somber than usual this time around— sure, Mike's prone to pouting when Harvey piles on extra work or lends Mike out to Louis for his own vindictive pleasure, but overall his associate is a pretty happy-go-lucky guy. However, the meltdown that eventually culminates in Hug Number 3 is both legitimate and long overdue for Mike, who has been stretched thin as of late.

At this point, it's been a few months since Mike's grandmother passed away, and the younger man has been doing a pretty good job of keeping up the pretense that he's doing well and that all is merry and good in the world of Mike Ross. He laughs at all the right times in conversation and continues to crack terrible jokes with aggravating frequency. But Harvey knows Mike better than that— to be honest, he probably knows Mike better than anyone else in Mike's life knows him at this point (and isn't _that _sad)— and he can easily see beneath the surface of Mike's carefree exterior and down to the core of the matter: Mike is struggling with his grandmother's death. It's not at all surprising— she was the one constant figure in his life over the past 15 years and it's only been a few months since she was suddenly wrenched away from him. It makes sense that he needs time to grieve and adjust to his loss. And despite Mike's masterful attempts to cover up his sorrow, Harvey knows that Mike isn't really coping, although he doesn't know how bad it is exactly. But he knows that Mike's been burying himself in his work; staying late at the office so he doesn't have to go back to his apartment and face the reality of another lonely night without a phone call or visit to his grandmother.

Harvey tries not to care or notice, but he can't help it— he and Mike spend a _lot _of time together, so every little change in Mike's demeanor is always instantly apparent to Harvey; not to mention the fact that Harvey basically reads people for a living. So Harvey might not be able to estimate the exact depth of Mike's emotional turmoil, but…he knows a lot of things about Mike.

He knows, for example, that Mike's real, genuine laughter and his 'you're-a-really-important-client-so-that's-the-funniest-joke-I've-ever-heard' polite chortle are not at all the same thing. The difference? Simple: Mike hitches his breath slightly right before the fake laugh, as though physically bracing himself to suck up to someone and force himself to laugh politely.

Harvey can't remember the last time he's heard Mike laugh without that damn hitch preceding it.

And he doesn't like it. He wants Mike back to the way he was before, because now Harvey has this terrible feeling in the pit of his stomach whenever Mike hitches his breath to laugh. And this terrible feeling seems a lot like…_caring. _In fact, he's pretty sure that if he described this emotion to Donna, that's exactly what she'd label it as. But he's Harvey Specter, and he doesn't _do _caring. Even if he wanted to (which he absolutely doesn't, of course), he has no clue how to explicitly go about helping Mike deal with his grief. So he just ignores it and tries to provide his associate with a manageable workload so that he'll maybe have time to sleep and eat and maintain some degree of emotional stability, especially since the ever-difficult holiday season is drawing closer.

Until the day comes when he can no longer ignore it.

Mike shuffles into his office in the late morning and hands Harvey the files that he had been assigned that day. He seems oddly meek and downtrodden, and for some reason he stands in front of Harvey's desk for a good three minutes and stares grimly out the glass windows, lost in thought as soft jazz plays in the background.

"I've heard that the acoustics are actually better over there," Harvey says conversationally, randomly indicating a corner of his office. "Or come to think of it I hear they're pretty good over in the associate bull pen, too," he says pointedly, gesturing out the door and down the hall, hoping Mike will take the hint and leave, or at least stop staring creepily. Mike doesn't smile and the fingers on his left hand twitch violently.

"Can I have the afternoon off?" He asks.

"I don't know, can you?" Harvey says, because he used to _hate _it when his teachers would ask that and also because he needs a minute to stall and assess Mike's current emotional state and deduce why he wants the afternoon off.

Mike grits his teeth slightly. "Fine. _May I _have the afternoon off?" He asks again.

"And why should I let you have the afternoon off?" Harvey asks.

"Because the cable guy is coming to my apartment to uhh…fix my cable. And I don't want him to steal my stuff," Mike says, and it's obvious that he has just wildly invented this on the spot.

"Your apartment doesn't have cable," Harvey points out.

"Oh," Mike says articulately. "Uh, well, you see, I took in a stray cat and the person it belongs to contacted me and she can only pick up the cat this afternoon. And no other time. Ever."

"You're allergic to cats," Harvey says before wondering why on _earth _he knows that.

Mike looks impressed at Harvey's extensive knowledge against his will. "Would you believe that there's a scheduled alien invasion in my apartment this afternoon?" He tries hopefully.

Harvey glares at him. "Alright, what's really going on?" He says, steepling his hands under his chin and trying to look as intimidating as possible.

It seems to work because Mike deflates a little, obviously resigned to his grim destiny of telling the truth. "Okay, well..." Mike takes a deep breath and seems to steel himself to continue. "I'm going to clean out the apartment I bought for Grammy. I cancelled the lease a few weeks ago and the landlord just got back to me today and asked if I could move everything out as soon as possible. There's not that much there since she never got to live in it, but I had brought over some stuff for her before…it happened and now I need to go get everything," Mike says quietly, his voice wavering slightly towards the end.

Oh. Damn. Harvey doesn't know what to do about this exactly.

"Oh," Harvey settles on saying. "Okay. You can have the afternoon off. See you tomorrow." He figures the best way to show his silent support is by giving Mike time and space to deal with this. It's what Mike seems to want anyway.

"Okay," Mike says, and he looks slightly crestfallen for some reason; as though he were expecting Harvey to say more. "Thanks." He pauses as though he wants to say something else, his blue eyes melancholy and lonely.

"Yep," Harvey says cleverly, feeling way out of his comfort zone. He has no clue what he should be doing in this situation.

"Bye," Mike says, and he leaves slowly and sadly.

Harvey stares blankly at his paperwork for ten minutes until Donna's voice barks at him over the intercom.

"Harvey Reginald Specter, get over here!"

Uh-oh. He's in trouble. But what for?

He wracks his brains as he sighs and begins to walk over to Donna's desk. Most senior partners would never allow their secretaries to boss them around like Donna does to Harvey, but she's not just his secretary; she's his friend too and he's learned that ignoring her generally has very severe and unpleasant consequences.

"Yes?" He says cautiously as he stands before Donna's desk.

Donna crosses her arms across her chest. "Harvey, I'm going to ask you a simple question. Why did I see Mike leaving this building with his bike helmet and all his files 10 minutes ago?"

"It's okay, Donna. I gave him the afternoon off. He's going to clean out that apartment he got for his grandmother right before she died," Harvey says reassuringly. _Donna is going to be so proud of me for being nice and giving Mike the afternoon off! _he thinks.

"I _know _that," Donna says fiercely and Harvey gets the vague impression that she is actually _not _proud of him for some reason. "The real question is, Harvey, _why aren't you going with him?_"

"He probably doesn't want me to, Donna," Harvey says defensively.

"That's ridiculous— you know that I listen in; did you see the look on his face after he told you why he wanted the afternoon off? He was practically pleading with you with his eyes to come along! He doesn't want to be alone right now, and this is the perfect opportunity to help him and show him that he's not alone even though he lost his grandmother," Donna says passionately.

Harvey winces. "Donna, we're _men. _I know you want me to host some sort of emotional powwow where Mike and I hold hands and sing 'Amazing Grace' as the sun sets, but I highly doubt that's ever going to happen. What would I even say to him when I showed up at the apartment?"

"That's a terrible excuse," Donna says. "You know Mike better than anyone besides Trevor and Trevor hasn't been around for ages, so it's your responsibility. Plus I know you want him back to being normal and happy again just as much as I do; I've seen the look on your face when Mike pulls his sad puppy-eyes."

Harvey opens his mouth to protest but Donna just raises her voice to talk over him.

"I fully believe that you'll know what to do when you get there," Donna continues in full finger-pointing lecture mode. "Because you _know _Mike and you know what he needs. When it first happened and he was in shock, you gave him lots of work to keep him busy until he was ready to deal with it. When he was falling apart at the seams after the funeral, you did the drunken frat brother routine with him and got him drunk and high to take his mind off of things. And when the depression hit the past few months, you gave him less work to ensure that he had time to work on coping. So don't you dare tell me that you don't know what you're doing when it comes to Mike! Because he needs your help to get over this— and right now what he needs is not his boss or a frat brother. He just needs a friend."

Harvey laughs uncomfortably. "Donna—"

"Harvey. Go. Now."

And he goes. But _not_ because he's afraid of Donna (she continues to make very specific threats regarding a certain favorite part of his anatomy as he hurriedly gathers his things to leave) but merely because he wants to get out and stretch his legs for awhile, of course. And if he happens to accidentally wander into the apartment complex where Mike had gotten the apartment for his grandmother, so be it. And if he happens to somehow coincidentally wind up knocking on the door of the specific apartment that Mike had secured for Edith to "ask for directions", then so be it.

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"Harvey?" Mike says in bewilderment when he opens the door to the apartment upon hearing Harvey's knock. He hastily wipes his eyes on his sleeve, but it's obvious that he has been crying.

"Mike," Harvey acknowledges as he slips inside. The apartment is almost completely bare with a couple of boxes filled up by the door. "Donna sent me."

"Oh," Mike says, his voice a little hoarse. "Well, I'm basically all done. But if you're here to make me come back to work—"

"No, you can have the rest of the afternoon off. I think I can survive one afternoon without you sitting in my office and singing or humming or chattering my ear off while I try to work," Harvey says wryly.

Mike rolls his eyes. "Just let me grab a few last things and then you can help me carry the boxes down to the lobby. The doorman said he'd watch them until I get a taxi to come back and pick them up. I can't really ride my bike with all of this stuff."

Harvey nods and watches silently as Mike collects a few final items before he crosses over to the wall and takes down the final picture hanging there. It seems to take him a long time— he just stands there holding the picture and staring at it. Harvey can see that Mike is clenching his jaw tightly and breathing rather rapidly.

Finally Mike turns to look at Harvey and Harvey can see that his eyes are full of tears that he is fiercely trying not to shed.

Curious to see the picture that has caused such a reaction, Harvey crosses the room to stand in front of his associate. He gently tugs the framed photo from Mike's grip and feels his heart sink sympathetically as he looks at the photo of a smiling Mike and Edith. Mike is probably about 13 in the picture, and he's grinning broadly at the camera, just as awkward and gangly as Harvey would imagine a 13-year-old Mike to be. Edith is smiling up at Mike, her eyes full of love and open affection.

"Mike," Harvey says quietly. "Your grandmother was really proud of you, you know that? I only met her for ten minutes and I could instantly tell."

And Mike completely breaks down at this. His body is suddenly wracked by violent sobs, his watery eyes overflowing. He struggles valiantly to regain his composure for a moment only to lose any semblance of it again when Harvey lays a gentle hand on his shoulder.

Mike launches himself at Harvey. In that moment he doesn't care that it's inappropriate and unprofessional for him to be bawling on his boss's shoulder or that he hasn't had much luck in the past when it comes to hugging Harvey. He's just so exhausted and he's tired of being sad and he wants his grammy back, dammit!

"I just feel so alone," Mike mumbles quietly into Harvey's shoulder when his sobs have abated somewhat, still maintaining a vice-like grip on his boss, who is standing there with his arms pinned at his sides while Mike embraces him.

And Harvey, who is incapable of bringing himself to say the words "you still have me" out loud, simply untangles his arms and brings them up to wrap them around Mike and draw him closer. Harvey feels Mike release a shuddery breath and break into a whole new round of crying when he gently returns the embrace and he knows that the unspoken message is received. He and Mike stay like that for a few minutes until Mike's tears stop and he pushes away, looking embarrassed.

But Harvey isn't having any of that. He leads Mike over to the couch and sits down next to him. "You know," he says casually, as though Mike hadn't just burst into wild tears a few moments prior. "I talked to your grammy on the phone once just a few weeks after I met you. She called my office after you visited her and you were sick with a cold and she demanded that I keep my eye on you."

"So that's why you made me take all that Benadryl that one time!" Mike laughs, any trace of self-consciousness gone, as he thinks about how he had fallen asleep in the middle of a very important meeting in front of a bemused client after overdosing slightly on cold medicine. Harvey scowls at that same memory, but there's no real anger behind it.

They sit and talk for the rest of the afternoon. Mike does most of the talking; telling stories about Grammy and what it was like to grow up with her after his parents died. Some of the tales are sad, some are funny. Harvey just listens, adding in a comment when it seems appropriate; filing away all the little tidbits he is learning about his associate.

Towards the end of the afternoon an emotionally exhausted Mike dozes off on the couch. Harvey just covers him with a blanket and carries the boxes down to the car where Ray is waiting— he'll drop them off at Mike's apartment tomorrow. He gives the landlord the apartment key and asks him to wake Mike up and get him a cab back to his own apartment before the landlord leaves for the night. God knows Mike can use whatever sleep he can get, wherever he can get it.

As he slides into the backseat of the car, he realizes that he _did _know what to do to help Mike (not that he'll ever tell Donna she was right) and feels a flush of pride run through his veins. And he can't bring himself to feel embarrassed about hugging Mike back this time, because he's glad that Mike is getting back on track and starting to get closer to being happy again. It turns out that all Mike had needed was a shoulder to cry on and someone to listen to him. And it was worth the afternoon off in the end, because every time Mike laughs in the following days, there is no breath-hitching beforehand.

And Harvey knows then that Mike will be okay.

* * *

**Poor Mikey! I hope that we all hold our loved ones close this holiday season in honor of all those who have lost someone this year and can't do the same, particularly recently in Connecticut. Have a nice day and I'll be back tomorrow...unless the world ends sometime today, that is XD  
**


	4. Chapter 4

**Ok, I know that this plotline has been done to death but I've actually never done it myself and it was too fun to resist. I feel like it's a rite of passage as a suits writer XD**

* * *

**4. Drugged up**

The fourth time that Mike hugs Harvey, he doesn't remember it afterward and Harvey can't quite bring himself to remind the younger man of the incident.

It's all that stupid bicycle's fault, plain and simple. It's absolutely ridiculous that Mike utilizes that piece of junk as his main mode of transportation. And it's especially ridiculous when he continues to bike to Pearson Hardman in late November after the first snowfall happens.

"Why the hell do we live in New York?!" is Mike's polite greeting one morning as he stumbles into Harvey's office, half-frozen from the bitter cold outside. His cheeks are pink and he's rubbing his chapped hands together fiercely to warm them up. "Do you think we could convince Jessica to move the firm to the Caribbean now that Hardman's gone?" Mike asks, genuinely curious.

"Yes, Mike. In fact, why don't you come along to the next senior partner meeting and propose that idea to Jessica and the other partners? That seems like it would be a good use of the firm's time and energy, right?" Harvey says sarcastically. Fortunately Mike has the good grace to keep silent after that.

Harvey dismisses the entire incident from his mind. Looking back, he realizes that he probably should have thought about the fact that it wasn't a very good idea to let Mike, who is both clumsy and naturally plagued by frequent misfortune, continue riding his bike around the city in the cold and snow. But at the time it doesn't seem like a big deal.

That is, until Harvey gets a phone call one morning. He is not having a good day thus far— Mike is 45 minutes late to work and he's supposed to be bringing some very critical papers. So when the phone rings and the caller ID shows that it's Mike, Harvey assumes that his associate is calling to make some half-assed excuse for why he's going to be late— it's pretty much part of Harvey's morning routine at this point.

"You had better get your ass in here right now, Mike—" Harvey begins, excited to release his frustration and vent a little.

"Is this Harvey Specter?" a voice asks over the line. It's male, but it's definitely not Mike.

"Yes," Harvey says cautiously, a bad feeling beginning to grow in the pit of his stomach.

"Are you responsible for Mike Ross?" the voice continues.

"You could say that," Harvey responds, tapping his pen on the desk in agitation.

"Mr. Specter, I'm calling on Mike's behalf. He's been in an accident on his bike," the voice says and Harvey feels his blood run cold. "They're about to load him onto the ambulance right now. I saw the whole thing happen on my morning jog and I was the first responder. Mike asked me to call you right before he passed out. My name's Robbie, by the way," Robbie explains. Harvey is already on his feet, grabbing his keys and wrestling his jacket on.

"I'll meet you at the hospital," Harvey says, breezing past a concerned-looking Donna, who, in her omniscient glory, starts rearranging his schedule unquestioningly and tosses him her keys so he doesn't have to wait for Ray. "How bad is he?"

"Hard to say," Robbie says. "I think he's in for a rough couple of days. But I don't think it's a life-or-death type of situation."

Harvey allows himself a small relieved sigh in the privacy of the elevator. It's not like he cares about his associate's wellbeing or anything of course, but it would be a major inconvenience to have to hire a new associate, especially during this busy time of the year.

He then drives Donna's car calmly and rationally to the hospital, like he would drive on any other day when his associate wasn't badly injured (okay, so maybe he runs a few red lights, but that's just because he is testing NYPD to see if they are doing a good job of ticketing speeding drivers— and apparently they aren't, seeing as Harvey safely makes it to the hospital in record time, completely ticket-free. He'll have to write a strongly worded letter to the mayor after he makes sure his protégé is still alive).

He marches into the emergency room and straight up to the main desk, where he uses all his powers of legal manipulation on the nurse (aka he flirts with her) until she _finally_ gives him Mike's room number (and her own number as well). The mysterious Robbie overhears his conversation with the nurse and comes over and introduces himself and gives Harvey Mike's phone before being led away to file a police report about what he witnessed.

Frustrated by the delay of wrangling information out of the nurse, Harvey slips past the ER doctors and takes the elevator up to Mike's room. He can't deny the fact that his heart is beating a little faster than normal for some reason. He's never liked hospitals.

He steps inside the room and the first thing he notices is that Mike is sitting up on the hospital bed, which seems like a good sign. There is a middle-aged, maternal-looking doctor leaning over Mike's arm and working on something, but he can't see from this angle. He steps further in and Mike notices him.

"Hi, Harvey!" Mike practically shouts, grinning dopily at him and waving furiously with the arm that the doctor isn't laboring over.

"Hi, Mike," Harvey says, cautiously returning the salutation at a more appropriate volume level.

"There," the doctor says, standing up and inspecting her work. Mike's left arm is now in a cast up to his elbow— a lime green cast. Very professional.

"Hi, Harvey!" Mike yells again before turning to the doctor. "Look! Harvey's here. I told you he'd be here," he continues, gesturing so wildly in Harvey's direction that he almost falls off the hospital bed.

Harvey raises his eyebrows at the doctor.

"Mr. Ross, why don't you lie down and rest for a few minutes while I talk to your friend in the hallway over here, okay?" The doctor says, motioning for a rather astonished Harvey to follow her.

Mike nods and obediently scoots into a lying down position. "Harvey! Goodbye, Harvey. Have fun in the hallway! Don't get lost!" He calls exuberantly as Harvey and the doctor leave.

"Is he alright?" Harvey asks in bewilderment.

"Oh, he'll be fine, don't worry," the doctor says confidently. "I'm Dr. Morgan, by the way."

"Harvey Specter," Harvey says and they shake hands.

"Yes, I got the impression that you were the infamous Harvey from Mr. Ross's many comments and greetings," Dr. Morgan says wryly, mouth twitching. "Anyway, as I was saying, Michael should be fine. He's in for a rough few days— he's got a fractured radius, some bruised ribs, and if you look at his forehead you'll see a nasty cut. We've got it closed up with some steri strips right now, but if it starts bleeding again you'll have to bring him back in for stitches," she says, and Harvey raises his eyebrows at her automatic assumption that he'll be taking care of Mike in the aftermath of this mess.

"He's on some pretty heavy-duty pain meds right now, which is why he's acting so...joyful. It should wear off tomorrow and then he can start taking some prescription narcotics. So I'm going to discharge him, but make sure that you keep an eye out for bleeding from that cut, difficulty breathing due to the bruised ribs, or any extreme arm pain tonight. You'll need to remind him to follow up with an orthopedic doctor for his arm— fortunately it's just a hairline fracture; it's hardly even swelling. If you have any questions, I'm here all night on call," Dr. Morgan says, and Harvey feels like he has just been hit by a whirlwind of information.

He must look uncertain or like he is wallowing in self-doubt, because Dr. Morgan pats him on the arm. "Don't worry, Mr. Specter. I've listened to Michael ramble about you for the past half hour while I handled his broken arm. If you're half as good of a friend as he describes you as, then you'll both be fine."

She smiles and leaves, and Harvey finds himself wanting to call after her with the vague ambition of asking her what exactly Mike had said about him, or to protest the idea of Mike and him being friends.

A nurse comes by with the discharge papers and helps Mike into a wheelchair. "This is Harvey," Mike says proudly as the nurse wheels him to the elevator. "He's my friend. Hi, Harvey! Will you sign my cast? Look, it's green; I got to pick it out!"

Harvey frowns. There's that word again. _Friend. _

Is Harvey Mike's friend? He's his boss, sure, even his reluctant mentor. But friends? Harvey supposes he doesn't really know. To tell the truth, he hasn't had that much friendly interaction with other males since his time at Harvard— an even then, those 'friendships' had been corrupted by a definite cutthroat air of we're-going-to-say-we're-friends-but-then-be-really-passive-aggressive-behind-each-others'-backs, because they were Harvard law students and they were all far too competitive for their own good. His other friendships in recent years are all with judges or clients— and to be fair, they're not true friendships because Harvey is essentially trying to get in their good graces so he can manipulate all of them to do his bidding when he needs to use them for his own good.

But Mike…well, Mike is different. He's not afraid to make fun of Harvey or tease him, but at the same time Harvey knows that Mike has his back and that he can count on him as his ace in the hole. Mike isn't passive aggressive— he lets Harvey know when something is bothering him in his own Mike-ish way and then they work it out.

He and Mike banter back and forth, they exchange movie quotes, they make fun of the other associates and prank Louis together. They spend a significant portion of their time together, and Harvey finds that things in his regular, non-work life will sometimes remind him of Mike. And then he'll want to shoot the younger man a text to reference some inside joke that he has with Mike but he doesn't. Because he's Mike's boss and mentor, and not his buddy. If they were buddies then they'd go out for drinks and hang out.

_Oh, wait. _They've done that before, the going out for drinks thing. And Harvey is the first person that Mike wanted to call when he was in an accident, because he knew that Harvey would come and that Harvey would look out for him. And even in his drug-induced state of confusion, Mike still trusts that Harvey will keep an eye on him for the night. Harvey is reluctant to admit it, even to himself; but that's probably more than what a boss would do for just some random employee.

"Harvey!" Mike's voice, more childish than normal, jolts him back to reality as the elevator door opens and they head out to the towncar where Ray is waiting. "Harvey, I got hit by a car because it was really snowy! My bike is broken, so I don't know how I'm going to come to work now," Mike says, sounding worried.

"It's okay, Mike," Harvey says in as comforting a tone as he can muster. "We'll buy you a new one once your arm is all better and it's not winter."

"Okay," Mike says trustingly, allowing Harvey to gently manhandle him into the backseat of the towncar.

Mike spends half of the ride to Harvey's apartment singing 'Sweet Caroline' very loudly and the other half sleeping and drooling on Harvey's shoulder while Harvey studiously pretends not to notice. He is pretty sure that Mike won't remember any of this in the morning, and for that he's exceedingly grateful.

When they finally get upstairs to the apartment, Harvey makes Mike sit on the couch while he changes the sheets on his bed. He figures he'll take the couch and Mike can have the bed— otherwise Mike, the clumsy idiot, will probably roll right off the narrow couch in the middle of the night and further jostle his injuries.

"Alright, Mike, time for bed," Harvey says, beckoning Mike over. He hands Mike a spare set of pajamas and waits as Mike changes in the bathroom.

Mike stumbles sleepily out of the bathroom. "Harvey," he says, grinning dumbly. "You're the best friend ever. I _knew _you'd come get me. Trevor probably wouldn't have." Mike says this so earnestly that it makes Harvey's chest ache.

Mike suddenly flings his arms around Harvey and presses his nose against Harvey's neck in a drunken embrace, cast and all. Harvey just stands there, frozen in Hug Number 4, not wanting to move and risk injuring Mike further. But it doesn't seem like Mike is planning on going anywhere anytime soon, so Harvey carefully returns the embrace for a few seconds before letting go, hoping this will spur Mike on to let go as well.

Finally Mike relinquishes his hold on Harvey and falls into bed gracelessly, immediately curling up in a little ball, covering himself up, and giggling over something.

"Goodnight, Mike," Harvey says, flicking the lamp switch off. "I'll be in the den if you need anything."

But Mike is already snoring peacefully.

_Shit, _Harvey thinks as he heads to the couch, leaving the bedroom door cracked open so he can hear if Mike calls. He thinks about the fact that Mike automatically trusts him to take care of him when he can't do it for himself and realizes that if their roles were reversed Mike would definitely do the same thing for him. _Shit, _he thinks again. _Mike and I are kind of friends. _


	5. Chapter 5

**This is...I don't even know where this one came from or where it was going but here you have it anyway XD  
**

* * *

**5. Christmas and Acceptance  
**

The fifth time that Mike hugs Harvey is preceded by much panic on Harvey's end.

At this point, he's come to recognize that his relationship with Mike extends beyond the walls of Pearson Hardman. But he's still struggling to accept the label of "friends." So in order to cope with this confusion in a mature way, he's taken to avoiding standing within huggable distance of Mike like the plague— after all, Mike has hugged him 4 times in the past few months, so Harvey's odds of escaping a 5th hug unscathed aren't looking too good, especially now that Mike has his arm in a rather cumbersome lime green cast that could probably do real damage if he were to clap Harvey on the back mid-embrace.

During one particularly boring senior partner meeting a few weeks prior, Harvey had done some very complicated math in an attempt to figure out exactly often Mike was hugging him so he could avoid Mike accordingly at those intervals. He had actually begun the process of writing an algorithm before realizing that it had been about 4 months and 4 hugs— thus he should expect roughly one hug per month from Mike.

And now it's December and Christmas is drawing near with no hug in sight. And it's making Harvey nervous— Mike seems like the type to go all-out during holiday celebrations and Christmas hugs definitely sound like something Mike would enjoy. So every time Mike steps close to Harvey for any reason, Harvey eyes him warily as though Mike might suddenly pounce on him. It's really the ridiculous diversity of the hugs that Mike has initiated thus far that sets Harvey on edge— one time the hug had been half a second, one time it had been completely fear and adrenaline-inspired, one time it had been a grief-filled embrace, and one time it had been caused by Mike dosing up on heavy narcotics. So Harvey really has no clue when the next hug could come, because it seems like there are such a vast set of circumstances that could potentially trigger Mike's apparent need to embrace Harvey. So he sticks to a strict defensive plan of avoidance.

Unfortunately for Harvey, Mike seems to pick up on this strange vibe pretty quickly. One day when Harvey is standing by his filing cabinet, Mike comes over to grab a folder and Harvey jumps and quickly says he has to go to the bathroom.

When he returns from the 'bathroom' (he really just did a lap around the floor before heading back to his office), Mike is perched on the couch, looking concerned and slightly uncomfortable. He stares at Harvey thoughtfully as Harvey sits down at his desk.

"Can I help you?" Harvey asks pointedly as Mike continues to frown in his direction.

"Er— Harvey, this is kind of weird…but um…do you have a bladder infection or something?" Mike asks finally.

Harvey immediately looks up from his papers and glares menacingly at Mike.

Mike holds his hands up defensively. "Look— I'm just saying, you go to the bathroom all the time these days. Like, literally every time I'm near you, you suddenly jump up and leave to go to the bathroom. It's happened 27 times in the past two weeks."

"What is wrong with you?" Harvey asks, shaking his head, wondering what sort of person kept track of their boss's trips to the restroom. What else was Mike counting?

"You know I can't help counting stuff like that!" Mike exclaims defensively. "My brain just _does _it. Look, I'm just saying, that's really bad for your kidneys—"

"_Mike,_" Harvey says, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration. "Stop. I don't have any sort of infection and my bathroom habits are none of your business."

Mike shrugs, looking unconvinced. "Okay. Fine. But when you're in the hospital dying of kidney failure, don't come calling me looking to borrow one of my kidneys—" he starts to say before diving off the couch to avoid the pen that Harvey throws at his head.

* * *

Mike storms into Harvey's office the next day, clearly all worked up about something.

"What the hell is this?" He snaps, slamming a piece of paper down in front of Harvey so fiercely that he almost gives Harvey's nose a papercut. "I found it in the notes from the Andersen meeting."

Harvey sighs at Mike's theatricality and grabs the sheet of paper before feeling his stomach drop. It's a page torn from a yellow legal pad and at the top, proudly displayed in Harvey's handwriting, is written "_An Algorithm for Finding Out When Mike Will Attempt to Hug Me Next So That I Can Avoid Him At That Time." _Dammit. He really needs to stop writing extensive and revealing titles on potentially incriminating papers.

"Mike—" he attempts to say placatingly, but Mike isn't having any of it.

"Jesus, Harvey, do you know how much of an idiot I feel like right now?!" Mike exhales loudly, his expression pained. "I've been walking around for ages thinking 'oh, hey, Harvey and I are kind of like friends. Because friends hang out together and drink and stuff. And we've gone out to drinks and I've even hugged him a time or two and I don't think he minded and he let me stay with him when I broke my arm a few weeks ago.' What a laugh, right?" Mike's voice has risen to a shout and he begins pacing back and forth in front of Harvey's desk, waving his green-casted arm furiously to punctuate his angry speech.

"Mike—" Harvey attempts again, ducking quickly to avoid getting hit in the temple by the green cast.

"Don't 'Mike' me, Harvey!" Mike exclaims, dragging his hands through his hair. "I feel so stupid— all those times you left to go the bathroom it was because you were _afraid _that I'd try to hug you? Are my hugs that terrible? And I've only hugged you three times," Mike snaps, jabbing his finger at the number four on the paper.

"Actually you've done it four times. You hugged me after you broke your arm and you were all drugged up," Harvey pipes up helpfully before cursing himself for opening his mouth and making it worse.

"Great! That's just great!" Mike exclaims, laughing in a slightly hysterical manner. "You know what, Harvey, I don't even know why I wanted it to be true that we were friends, because you're such an ass sometimes! If you didn't want me hanging around you outside of the office or hugging you or whatever, you should have at least had the decency to tell me yourself instead of avoiding me and writing terrible equations. And you're awful at math!" He shouts petulantly.

"Look, Mike, I'm your boss but that doesn't mean—"

But Mike isn't listening. He's gathering up the files he dropped on the couch when he entered. "It's _fine, _Harvey," he says in a clipped tone that implies that it's actually anything but fine. "You don't have to give me the speech. You're my boss, I'm your lackey, and that's it. Message received, loud and clear."

Mike storms out of the office, and Harvey can't deny that he feels guilty when picturing the open look of hurt on Mike's face.

So that's why he shows up at Mike's apartment that night bearing a six pack of beer and a pizza. He raps firmly on the door until Mike, who he can hear grumbling through the thin walls, heaves a loud sigh and comes to see who it is.

When Mike opens the door and sees that it's Harvey, he immediately shuts it again.

Harvey bangs for another 5 minutes until Mike opens the door again.

"What do you want?" He asks flatly.

"I'm sorr—" Harvey says, only to have the door shut on his face again.

"I have beer!" Harvey calls enticingly. "And that pizza with cheese stuffed in the crust that you like."

This seems to do the trick. Mike cracks the door opens again and reaches just his hand out for the box of pizza.

"You're going to have to open the door more than that if you want to be able to grab the box," Harvey says innocently. Mike is silent for a minute, obviously calculating the risks involved in opening the door further.

Finally, hunger wins and Mike swings the door open a foot or two further. He snatches the pizza from Harvey's hands and attempts to shut the door again— but he's too slow and Harvey gets his foot in the door.

They struggle for a minute, Mike trying to shut the door and Harvey trying to keep his foot firmly planted. Harvey rolls his eyes as he pulls at the door handle. He can't believe how juvenile this is— he had had this exact same type of argument with his little brother, but that had been twenty five years ago.

Finally Mike gives up. "Oh, fine," he sighs, suddenly letting go of the door. Harvey stumbles back. "If you're going to insist on trying to break and enter, you might as well bring the beer in."

Harvey grins and steps inside, passing Mike the six pack. Mike puts it in the fridge and grabs them two cold ones, and they sit down on the couch and begin eating pizza in awkward silence.

"So," Harvey says conversationally after a while. "The weather's gotten a lot colder lately—"

"How are the Yankees doing?" Mike asks at the exact same time.

They both eye each other nervously.

Finally Harvey's die-hard Yankees fan heart can resist no longer. "It's December. The Yankees aren't playing," he points out.

Mike frowns. "Oh, sorry," he says sarcastically. "I'm sure all of your frat boy jock friends would have known that. I'm so sorry you have to tell me these things."

Harvey wants to point out that probably most Americans in general would have known that, but refrains. "Look, Mike," he says instead. "I don't really _have _any frat boy jock friends. Or a lot of friends in general. That's why this is so weird."

Mike takes a long swig of beer. "I'm listening," he says.

"It's like I just said— come on, Mike, you know me. You know I'm awesome," he says. Mike rolls his eyes. "But you _also _know that a lot of people don't like me around the firm and in the legal field in general. I don't know why— it's probably just because they're jealous."

Mike mumbles something that sounds suspiciously like "or it's because you're a pompous asshole."

And for some reason Harvey finds that really funny. And he starts laughing and he can't stop. He laughs like he laughed the night when he and Mike smoked weed and sat at Mike's kitchen table and drank beers and hung out like friends. He can't remember the last time he's laughed like this with someone— probably with his brother back when they were young and happy and their mother was still a part of their lives and their family was whole.

And that's when the realization hits him— he and Mike _are _friends. But just because they're friends doesn't mean that they're not still boss and employee, mentor and protégé. Because it's not like they can _only_ fit themselves into one category. They can be friends and still work together. And that's how Harvey wants it to be— he's tired of being disliked by everyone. He's getting older—almost 40— and while he's nowhere near close to being ready for a long term romantic relationship, he's realizing that he's at a point in his life where he _wants _stable, long-lasting friendships with people like Donna and Mike, who put up with his irritability and arrogance and push him right back and keep him in check. And he doesn't know exactly what to do with this revelation, so he just keeps laughing.

Mike looks at him like he's crazy at first, but eventually he finds some apparent humor in the situation and joins him in his laughter, his anger apparently forgotten.

When they finally calm down and stop laughing, Mike offers Harvey a tentative smile. "Are we good, Harvey?" He asks.

"Yeah," Harvey says, reaching for another piece of pizza.

"So where does this leave us? Are we friends, or…?" Mike asks, looking nervous.

Harvey stands to get another beer. "I don't know— you said it yourself earlier: friends hang out together and drink together. I'm here with beer and a pizza and you've got a TV. Make of that what you will," he says.

It's a very Harvey-ish response— he doesn't know if he'll ever be able to explicitly admit to being friends with Mike, but he hopes it will be enough for Mike to hear that much. And judging by the grin on Mike's face it is.

"Grab me one while you're at it," Mike says, grabbing the remote control and changing the channel from the news. They sit and watch the stop motion version of the "Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer" from the 1960s and laugh at the terrible claymation.

"You coming over for Christmas next week?" Harvey asks casually when the movie is over and he's waiting for a cab to come pick him up.

Mike looks at him like he's insane. "You're inviting me over for Christmas? How many beers have you had?"

Harvey looks uncomfortable. "Donna comes over every year since her family lives really far away. Sometimes Jessica comes too. Donna's been bugging me about asking you for ages, so…." Harvey trails off awkwardly. "It's fine if you have other plans."

Mike laughs incredulously, looking like he's just been handed the moon. "Do I have plans? Harvey, my entire family is dead," Mike says bluntly and Harvey winces. "Trevor isn't around anymore and Rachel and I aren't dating…what plans would I possibly have?"

"Then I'll tell Donna you're coming?" Harvey asks.

Mike nods furiously. "I'll have to make decorations for your apartment! Do you have a tree? What about Christmas lights?" He asks, beginning to pace around and plan. _Ah. There's that holiday cheer Harvey had been anticipating. _

Harvey just grins and shows himself out as Mike begins making a list of things to bake and buy, not paying attention to Harvey any longer. He's not sure what this Christmas will be like, but at the very least it will probably be entertaining.

* * *

**A few days later (Christmas)**

"Bye, Donna!" Mike exclaims, his voice slightly slurred as he hugs the fiery redhead goodnight.

"Bye, Mike," Donna replies, kissing Mike on the cheek. "Merry Christmas!" She's probably the most sober out of the three of them, but she's decently drunk.

It's been a successful Christmas—Mike and Donna had invaded Harvey's apartment that morning and decorated ferociously. Harvey didn't really see the point in it—it was just going to be the three of them and Jessica for dinner for one night, so it didn't seem worth all the work, but he had learned not to question Donna. So he sat back and watched as they draped sparkly things all over the place, Donna's warning glare the only thing that kept him from shaking his head in exasperation.

They had spent the afternoon watching Christmas movies and drinking. Then they had eaten dinner with Jessica, who had left a few hours prior, and sat around the fireplace and chatted for hours. And drank some more. As a result, they were all feeling pretty good. Mike had called a cab, and Donna was getting a ride home from a friend who was at a family Christmas party in the area.

"Bye, Harvey!" Mike says now, moving closer to Harvey. Copying his motions from his exchange with Donna, he wraps his arms around Harvey in a friendly hug for a minute, resting his cheek on Harvey's shoulder. Harvey just stands until Mike stiffens and pulls away.

"Sorry," he says hastily. "I know you don't want me to hug you."

But Harvey finds he doesn't really care anymore. He doesn't know what he was worried about, anyway. It's not like Mike's a bad hugger.

"Nah, it's fine," he says, his own voice slightly slurred as he grins and slings an arm around Mike's shoulders. His protégé returns the smile happily.

Mike's phone buzzes at the same time as Donna's does.

"Well, that's my taxi," Mike says as he heads over to the door, stumbling slightly.

"And my ride as well," Donna says, hugging Harvey. "Merry Christmas, Harvey!"

She slips around Mike and out the door into the hallway.

"Merry Christmas, Harvey!" Mike calls as he steps out and starts pulling the door shut behind him. "Oh, and have fun cleaning up all those decorations!"

He shuts the door firmly.

Harvey looks around at the glittery mess that is his apartment.

"MIKE!" He bellows angrily.

And as he drunkenly chases Mike down the hallway, laughing all the while in spite of himself, he can't help but think that it's been a pretty good Christmas after all.


	6. Chapter 6

**Taking a leaf out of phoenix on cloud nine's book on this last one. Warning for mentions of bus violence lol**

* * *

**+1 Time Harvey Hugged Mike**

Harvey never thought he'd initiate a hug with Mike Ross.

But then again, he also never thought he'd be a lawyer back when he was just an angry kid with familial problems. He never thought he'd go to Harvard until Jessica found him bumming around and squandering away his potential in the mail room. And he certainly never thought he'd have an associate, and much less an associate who was basically an overgrown puppy that had somehow managed to worm his way into Harvey's life.

The day that Harvey hugs Mike is one that neither of them will ever forget. Mike won't forget it because it's such a miracle to him; that Harvey could actually potentially care enough about him to be concerned for his well-being and actually openly express that concern. Harvey, on the other hand, will always remember it for the mind-numbing adrenaline rush of fear he had experienced.

It really all goes back to Mike's bike accident back in late November. It's now almost the end of January and Mike has been cast-free for a few weeks. There are hardly any lingering signs that the accident ever happened— the cut on Mike's forehead hasn't scarred, his ribs have stopped twinging at sudden movements, and his left arm is slowly regaining its strength. All in all, he's moved on and put the incident behind him.

The only thing that's different now is that Mike doesn't have a way to get to work anymore: his beloved bicycle (which he had called 'Carlos' and Harvey had called 'scrap metal') was damaged beyond repair in his accident.

Initially, Mike talks about how he's going to use his Christmas bonus to buy himself a new bike after laying his old one to eternal rest and observing an appropriate period of mourning.

But Harvey, vividly recalling how Mike had described the way that the car had skidded through the snow and ice and had been unable to stop before hitting him, places a strict moratorium on all bike-riding until spring. Of course, this isn't because he is worried about Mike getting hit again or anything. It's just because associates are ridiculously hard to find and train, and in particular associates with eidetic memories. That's all.

Mike thinks this is ludicrous. "I'm almost 30, Harvey," he protests many times. "I think I can manage to ride my bike to work on my own."

"Yes, because that worked out so well for you last time," Harvey usually mutters. It's becoming a daily exchange for them, and both are frustrated by the current system they have going, which is Ray picking Mike and Harvey up for work. The problem with this is that it takes way too long to get from Harvey's apartment to Mike's to Pearson Hardman, and Mike is never ready and that angers Harvey and then they start the day off on the wrong foot.

So one day when they are having their usual morning argument on the matter of The Great Bike Ban of 2013 after arriving at the office 30 minutes late, Harvey decides to do something about the situation, because they're clearly just going in circles right now.

The next day, when Mike is claiming (as always) that he is an adult and he can bike all by himself, Harvey pulls a pre-paid public transit card out of his pocket.

"You know what, Mike?" He says, waving the card in Mike's direction. "Fine. I know you went around telling everyone that it was your half-birthday last week, so here's your 27 ½-year-old birthday present."

"Aww, you shouldn't have," Mike says jokingly.

He takes the plastic card and reads it and his face changes.

"Harvey, I didn't mean that I wanted to take the bus to work. I meant that I wanted to ride my bike," he says firmly. "And I'm 28 ½ actually."

"Could've fooled me. I was thinking more along the lines of 8 ½," Harvey mumbles under his breath while Mike scowls fiercely at him.

"Harvey—" Mike opens his mouth to whine some more.

"Mike," Harvey cuts him off. "Take the damn card. You can either take the bus to work or you can be ready on time when Ray and I stop at your apartment. Those are your choices until spring. No biking," he says.

Mike looks like he's about to pitch a fit or at the very least stomp out of the office and slam the door behind him. But he seems to change his mind as he looks at Harvey. Maybe it's the way that Harvey's got his jaw set as he remembers the phone call he had gotten the morning of Mike's accident two months ago, but something in Harvey's visage makes Mike nod slowly and reach out for the card.

"I'll take the bus," he says with a long-suffering sigh. Harvey nods, satisfied.

"Good boy. Donna looked up some times for you, and it looks like the 7:34 bus is the one you should be taking to make it here by 8. So from now on I want to see you here _on time. _Or I'll loan you out to Louis until spring. Understood?"

Mike nods fervently at this threat.

And for a few days, all is well. Mike dutifully takes the 7:34 bus to Pearson Hardman every day and he is always on time that way. Harvey hardly knows what to do with his mornings anymore now that he doesn't have to harp on Mike about being late or do his work for him because he's not there.

But then one frigid morning in early February, everything changes.

8:00 rolls around and Mike isn't there with the precedent he was supposed to have researched the previous night. Harvey shrugs it off for the first few minutes of Mike's tardiness— maybe Mike stopped to grab a coffee or to engage in a whimsical snowball fight with a random passerby (it seems like something Mike would do). But when 8:15 and 8:30 roll past, he can't help but feel a slight twinge of concern and anger. _Mike better have a good reason for being late or he'll be working with Louis long past spring! _He thinks vindictively, rubbing at his temples to get rid of the ringing in his ears that is sure to blossom into a headache later.

But wait…the ringing isn't going away. And it isn't actually coming from his ears. He stands quickly and crosses to the windows of his office. _Sirens. _Lots and lots of police and ambulance and fire truck sirens a few blocks away. Harvey feels his stomach twist uncomfortably— the noise and the flashing lights are coming from the direction that Mike's bus normally heads in.

But surely whatever catastrophe has happened has nothing to do with Mike. This is New York City, after all. More than 8 million people live here, and literally anything could have happened. Maybe Mike's bus was delayed by whatever chaos was unfurling in the streets below.

He has just managed to convince himself of this when Donna bursts into his office, her face stark white and her eyes wide with horror.

"Harvey," she says, her voice high and terrified. Harvey blanches. He has _never _heard Donna, the paragon of regal confidence, sound like this. Something is wrong.

"Harvey," she repeats again, her voice growing slightly hysterical.

"Donna," he says, quickly ushering her over to the couch before she collapses. "Donna, what's wrong? Is it your family? Are your parents okay?"

Donna shakes her head, apparently too shaken up to speak. It takes her a minute to regain her composure and Harvey jumps up and begins pacing to give himself something to do.

"Mike," she finally whispers quietly before breaking into tears. Harvey freezes.

"Donna," he says slowly. "What _about _Mike?"

Donna sniffs. "His bus, Harvey! It's Mike's bus. Norma and I were watching the news in the secretary break room and there was breaking news that his bus was in a really bad accident and they don't know how many survivors there are and there are _so many sirens_—"

But Harvey isn't listening anymore. He freezes as his familiar, safe world suddenly shifts on its axis around him. He sinks to sit down, vaguely relieved when his body finds the couch instead of toppling to the floor. He stares straight ahead unseeingly.

_Mike's bus._

Of course it just had to be Mike's bus.

"—Harvey! Harvey, are you listening to me?! Now's not the time to go into shock." He becomes vaguely aware of the fact that Donna is in front of him and that she's shaking him and speaking in a panicked tone.

Harvey blinks. "It's Mike's bus," he repeats in a wooden voice. Bus crashes are bad. Everyone knows that. Much worse than regular car crashes.

"Well, yes, but we don't know if he was on it, Harvey," Donna attempts to say reassuringly, but her voice quavers unconvincingly.

Harvey pulls his phone out of his pocket and finds Mike's number before pressing 'call' with numb, oddly clumsy fingers.

"He's not answering," Harvey says hollowly after a minute. "Why isn't he answering his phone, Donna?!" Suddenly Harvey finds that he's on his feet and he's talking very loudly.

"Harvey," Donna says quietly. "We need to stay calm. We don't know for certain if Mike was on that bus. And if he was, we don't know if he was hurt or not. All we can do is go down to the intersection where it happened and ask the police if they've seen Mike. Okay?"

Harvey's hands are shaking. He nods and grabs his coat.

"This is my fault," he says, his voice oddly detached. "I should have just let him buy himself a goddamn bike like he wanted. Or I should have made Ray pick him up."

"No, Harvey!" Donna exclaims. "You can't blame yourself. It's snowy and accidents happen. Come on, all we can do now is cross our fingers and hope that Mike and all the other people on the bus are okay."

As Donna flits around her desk gathering her jacket and phone, Harvey clenches his hands into fists and tries to believe that Mike is fine. But wouldn't it just be Mike's awful luck to be in a terrible bus wreck? Who would that ever happen to, besides someone as prone to misfortune as Mike?

And _oh god, what if Mike isn't okay?_

Harvey tries to remember life before Mike stumbled into that interview with a briefcase full of pot, but he finds it strangely difficult. How had he and Donna made it through all those unbearably long days at Pearson Hardman before Mike showed up, bringing his unfailing tenacity, ridiculous eagerness, and friendly banter into the office?

And what will he do now if that piece of his life is gone? If _Mike _is gone?

Regret suddenly washes over him as he thinks about all the things he should have said and done. He thinks about things that he might never get to do or say.

But most of all, he thinks about Mike.

Stupid, brilliant Mike.

Harvey has seen the younger man at his best—when Mike's eyes light up as he suddenly finds a connection to something beyond Harvey's comprehension that will save their asses in court, when he negotiates a deal by himself and Harvey can see what a great litigator he will be one day, or when Mike challenges Harvey's morals to force him to be a better lawyer and a better person.

And he has also seen Mike at his worst— Mike clinging to him like a child who needed his older brother's protection in the haunted house, Mike sobbing in the wake of his grandmother's death, Mike high on pain meds— but he thinks nothing less of Mike for this.

He pictures Mike sitting on the bus this morning, eating a pop-tart and chugging coffee (just an average meal in the supremely well-balanced diet of Mike Ross). He would have been listening to some stupid Mike-ish music on his iPod, bobbing his head to the beat and tapping his fingers on his legs. Harvey then visualizes the panicked look that would have overtaken Mike's features when he felt the bus skidding out of control though the intersection. He can almost perfectly imagine the way that Mike's eyes would widen in shock and fear as he realized that he was about to meet his end ironically in much the same way as his parents had.

Harvey feels like he's going to throw up and he realizes dimly that his eyes are a little bit wet.

"Alright, let's go," Donna says, her voice subdued.

Harvey nods and begins walking blindly towards the elevator only to suddenly crash into…Mike?

He freezes and draws back as though he's been slapped. Surely he's seeing things. Because here's Mike, standing here right in front of Harvey. He looks perfectly fine, albeit a bit tired and worn. He's wearing the same suit as he was yesterday and his tie is wrinkled.

Harvey blinks to dispel the image his subconscious mind is obviously projecting to cope with this crisis, but Mike is still standing there when Harvey opens his eyes, smiling inanely at him after righting himself from their minor collision.

Harvey feels his heart sink. _Great. Now he's going crazy. _

But he hears a clattering noise as Donna drops her purse and phone and steps forward and throws her arms around Mike, who appears to be completely corporeal and very real. Harvey is struggling to wrap his mind around the idea that Mike is somehow alive and well.

He steps a little closer, scrutinizing Mike's face. It all looks in place, but this _can't _be Mike. Because Mike always has his bangs spiked back and this imposter Mike has his bangs smushed down on his forehead.

But Harvey has to know for certain. So when Donna, weeping profusely, steps away from a rather bewildered Mike, Harvey steps forward and reaches a finger out and pokes at imposter Mike's bangs a bit.

If Mike looked befuddled before, he's downright nonplussed at this point.

"Hi, Harvey," Mike says calmly and slowly, as though trying to talk a nervous horse out of kicking him. "Here are the files you wanted. Are you guys okay? Because Donna seems really upset and you…have you been crying, Harvey? What's going on?"

Harvey just continues to poke at Mike's upper forehead. Finally Mike swats his hand away.

"Yes, yes, I know my hair looks bad right now," Mike says dismissively. "I fell asleep in the filing room last night while I was looking for this precedent and I stayed here at the office overnight. Sorry I'm late, by the way— my phone died in the middle of the night and my alarm didn't go off this morning so I just woke up a few minutes ago. Well, are you going to tell me what's wrong with you guys? Are you going somewhere in your jackets? Is it for coffee? Can you get me a donut while you're out? One with sprinkles, please."

Mike continues to ramble and Harvey feels a relieved smile beginning to creep over his face as the reality that Mike is well and safe and _not _a victim of a terrible bus crash begins to sink in.

"— do we really have to meet with Ron Thomas this afternoon? Last time he threw a book at my head, remember? Oh," Mike says suddenly in bewilderment. "You've just dropped the files that I worked on _all last night_ all over the place on the floor. Okay. Excellent. Oh. And now you're hugging me…" Mike recites all that is transpiring in a perplexed sort of way before realizing what he is saying. "Wait a second…Harvey, you're…you're hugging me!"

And Harvey is indeed hugging Mike. First he drops the files Mike had handed him to free up his hands and then he wraps his arms around Mike, drawing his associate close. He feels Mike's body rumbling as he talks disbelievingly about the miracle that is taking place ("Harvey Specter is _hugging _me, Donna!"). And even though Mike smells a little weird since he hasn't been home for almost 2 days, Harvey keeps hugging his protégé, relishing in the fact that Mike is here and he's alive. And sure, Mike might have some pretty bad morning breath right now, but he's got all the time in the world to go home and brush his teeth and shower. Because he's alive and he's _fine_. And that's what's important.

And it kind of _is_ a miracle. Mike had come so very close to being on that bus this morning— had it not been for extenuating circumstances, he probably would have been there, sitting and eating his pop-tarts and never even knowing what was about to hit him. That thought alone makes him tighten his grip on Mike further, one of his hands fisting the material of Mike's suit jacket. Mike just pats him on the back awkwardly as he hugs Harvey back.

"There, there," Mike says uncomfortably. "Don't worry, Harvey. I'm sure they'll catch whoever it was that kidnapped you and brainwashed you until you had a radical personality change and developed actual human emotions. Hey, are lobotomies reversible, Donna?"

When Harvey finally lets go of Mike to rub at whatever strange liquid substance has gotten in his eyes (he mentions that it's probably allergies causing his eyes to tear and neither Mike or Donna are brave enough to point out that it's February and there's no pollen in the air) Donna proceeds to explain what has happened. Mike is understandably upset— he has made friends with some of the 'regulars' on the 7:34 bus and he's concerned for their welfare.

Harvey calls up Ray and asks him to come pick Mike up (fortunately he trusts Ray with his own life and he's fairly certain that Mike will be able to avoid all serious accidents in Ray's capable hands) so that Mike can go home and shower and change and stop by the hospital and visit any of his friends that might have the misfortune of being injured.

The whole time Mike is gone, Harvey sits at his chair and stares blankly at his work, still recovering from the excitement and commotion of the morning. He can't believe how close his world almost came to changing drastically for the worse. And he knows he should tell Mike all the things that he's been thinking, but he's already hugged Mike at length today and he's not sure if he has the energy for an emotional confession within him. But he figures he can at least do something small to put his feelings in action.

So that's why there's a box of sprinkled donuts sitting at Mike's usual spot on Harvey's couch when the younger man comes back a few hours later, just as Mike had requested earlier before he had known what was going on.

Mike smiles knowingly as he takes a disgustingly large bite of donut, and Harvey knows that Mike gets the message— these donuts are like Harvey's way of saying: "_Wow, I'm so glad that you're still alive and I'm sorry that I'm a crappy friend and boss to you but that you're such a good friend to me and you're kind of like my little brother so please take care of yourself and don't die because I like having you around even though I'm too emotionally damaged to admit it."_

And maybe someday down the line, Harvey will be at a place in his life where he can actually say these things out loud. But for now, it's much easier to express all of this via silent box-of-donuts communication.

But then again...maybe he shouldn't wait until "someday." After all, this morning had proved that it was impossible to know how many "somedays" were left for any of them.

"I'm glad you're okay."

The words are out of Harvey's mouth before he can overthink saying them.

Mike is staring at him. "Sorry, what did you say?" he asks, his eyes impossibly round.

And Harvey is really tempted to lie and say "What do you mean? I said, 'I had a good day', of course," for about half a second. But then he looks at his associate, who has been through so much in his 28½ years; overcome so many hardships and lost so much. And he thinks that Mike deserves to know the truth: that he has friends out there who still care about him.

"I said, I'm glad you're okay," Harvey repeats before he can stop himself. He winces, realizing that Donna is probably listening to this conversation at her desk and weeping into a handkerchief.

But when he sees the way that Mike's eyes light up, he can't bring himself to regret his choice of words. Mike smiles tentatively and offers Harvey the open box of donuts. Harvey takes one and reflects on the fact that it had been a much easier task than he had thought to share some type of emotion with Mike.

But it's not an easy task keeping Mike alive, that's for sure. The universe seems to be conspiring against Harvey and trying to prevent his associate from reaching his 29th birthday— first the bike accident, then the near-bus accident, and now Mike is choking on a piece of donut.

"That's why you don't eat whole donuts in one bite, Mike," Harvey says in exasperation as he thumps a coughing Mike on the back until he can breathe properly.

_Yes, it's not an easy job taking care of Mike Ross_, Harvey thinks as he sits down on the couch next to Mike to discuss the merits of sprinkled donuts vs. glazed ones. Work can wait for a little bit.

_But it is worth it to have him around_.

* * *

**Yeah, I don't know why the plot suddenly began revolving around donuts at the end there? Clearly I was craving fried desserts at the time of writing this XD but anyway, that's it for this story. Hope you all liked it, I had a great time writing it :D Merry Christmas to all who celebrate it, and Happy Holidays in general to all you all! A lot of people have been asking me about tbah and when I'm going to update it- hopefully soon after the holidays settle down I'll have some more writing time, so stay tuned! :D  
**


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